The Way We Live Our Days, Is

The Soul May Ask God For Anything, And Never Fail.

The Sea Pronounces Something, Over And Over, In A Hoarse Whisper; I Cannot Quite Make It Out.

The Extravagant Gesture Is The Very Stuff Of Creation.

At Night I Read And Write, And Things I Have Never Understood Become Clear; I Reap The Harvest Of The Rest Of The Year's Planting

The Irrational Haunts The Metaphysical.